Deligo Sanguis

Chapter Five

Argumentative

ONE

Harry sat quietly in charms, ignoring Ron and Hermione to the best of his ability; that is to say, he was pretending they didn’t exist. He couldn’t say that he didn’t miss them because he did, but he truly felt that things were better this way. His wonderful ‘father’ had been putting forth more of an effort, but he was still behaving like the quintessential greasy git. Harry certainly couldn’t make himself feel more than ambivalent about the man, so he did his best not to be too insulting when they were together at night.

Ron turned in his seat to look at Harry, pleading silently with his eyes, as he’d been doing several times a day for a week. Harry pretended that he didn’t see him.

“He hates us now, you know,” Ron said to Hermione in a whisper. Unfortunately, their table was just close enough for Harry to hear everything they said to each other.

“He’s just stewing,” Hermione replied. Harry had to forcibly keep himself from rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know, Hermione,” Ron muttered. “Even in fourth year, he wasn’t like this. He acts as though we’re not even here.”

“Just give him time, Ron,” Hermione said, resting her hand on Ron’s forearm. “He’ll come around. We just need to give him time and not give up on him.”

Ron sighed heavily. “If you say so, ‘Mione.”

Harry’s eyebrow went up before he could stop it. ‘Mione? Since when had Hermione had a nickname? She’d always been Hermione. When did she become ‘Mione? He reminded himself that he didn’t care about things like that anymore and turned his attention to practicing his charms.

TWO

“You’re distracted,” Snape reprimanded as Harry lowered his wand.

“I don’t want to do this,” Harry countered.

“This is important,” Snape shot back.

“Why?”

“Legilimency is the other side of Occlumency. You can control either better if you know both. I want you to try harder.”

“Dumbledore never said anything about learning Legilimency!”

“He didn’t expect you to take to Occlumency so well. Because you have, he has asked me to move on to Legilimency.”

“I don’t want to do this!” Harry repeated.

“What do you have against learning this?” Snape sounded like he was losing his temper fast.

“It would just be one more thing for me to have in common with Voldemort! I don’t want to know how to read people’s minds!”

Snape lowered his wand at last, not even reprimanding Harry for using Voldemort’s name. He stared silently, apparently considering what he should do about this. “What do you mean, one more thing?” he asked after a long time.

Harry, who had gotten so good at hiding his emotions, started to tremble and didn’t answer.

“Harry?” Snape asked, watching him closely, but making no moves to come closer.

“Everything,” Harry said at last, feeling rather deflated. “We were both supposed to be in Slytherin, except I made the Hat put me in Gryffindor. We both have dark hair. We’re both strong wizards. We’re both orphans—“

“You’re not an orphan,” Snape interrupted quietly, as though he hadn’t meant to speak.

Harry swallowed thickly. He hadn’t been thinking of Snape. He still didn’t consider the man to be anything more than his professor. After a long silence he said, “I’m sorry.”

Snape moved to his desk and sat down heavily without responding. “Do your homework,” he said instead.

Harry nodded and sat down on Snape’s sofa, which was made of an odd sort of suede that was very soft and comfortable. He removed his books, parchment, quill and ink from his pack and tried not to imagine what Snape could possibly be thinking of.

THREE

Severus was pretending to grade papers as Harry did his homework. He was doing his best to ignore Harry’s comment about being an orphan. What had he been expecting? The boy only just found out he had a living father a little more than a month ago. Did Severus honestly think he’d have accepted everything so quickly? Harry had spent his entire life believing himself an orphan. Did Severus really expect a month and a half of private magic lessons to change the boy’s mind? Stupid. Stupid! Still, hearing Harry say it aloud had sent a pain through Severus’ heart that felt something like a sharp blade.

“Severus?” Harry’s voice broke through his maudlin thoughts.

“Yes, Harry,” he said absently, still staring blankly at the essay in front of him.

“Would you help me with this essay?” Harry asked tentatively.

Severus turned to look at his son, feeling somewhat surprised by the request. “Sure,” he said, moving to sit next to Harry on the sofa. “What are you working on?” He was most displeased to hear that his voice still had a defeated sound about it.

“Defense,” Harry replied.

“You need help with a Defense essay?” Severus asked surprised.

“Yeah.”

“What is it on?”

“The Unforgivables.”

“I was under the impression that you learned those in your fourth year.”

“Yeah, but Crouch didn’t really go into details about how they worked, just what they did. I’m supposed to explain the mechanics behind casting the Imperious Curse.”

“You’ve had experience with that particular curse, have you not?”

“Throwing it off. I’ve never cast it before.”

Severus sat back to think, wondering why the hell the teacher would want them to know the mechanics of casting the Imperious Curse. It didn’t make sense. It was like the teacher wanted the students to start casting it on each other. “I don’t want you doing this essay.”

Harry looked at him sharply. “Why not?”

“It’s completely inappropriate. I shall speak to the headmaster about this assignment.”

“I thought it was important to understand spells so that you could defend against them.”

“The Unforgivables are different. You could understand Imperious all you want, but if you don’t have the magical prowess, you will not be able to throw it. It takes a strong mind to throw that curse, not the understanding of how it was cast.”

“I don’t see what harm learning this could do.”

“Let’s assume that a student like Draco Malfoy does this assignment and understands it,” Severus resisted the urge to add ‘and I’m sure he does’. “He now has the knowledge needed to cast the spell. All he has to do is practice. He could use anything; a rat, a spider, Mrs. Norris, it matters not. What does matter is that the spell becomes easier to do with each successful casting. Once he knows how to use it, there’s nothing stopping him from putting any of the other students, or staff for that matter, under the spell. He would have learned how to use it here, at Hogwarts, from a teacher who was supposed to be protecting and teaching to protect, not teaching to harm. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded, his brows furrowed in thought. “So what should I do?” he asked after a moment.

Severus reached out and took the parchment from Harry’s hands. “Leave it to me. Do your other work.”

“Thanks, Severus,” Harry said, watching Severus adjourn to his desk.

“Don’t mention it.”

FOUR

“I refuse to allow my son to do this assignment,” Severus grated, slapping Harry’s essay paper down on Albus’ desk.

Albus picked up the parchment and read the heading. “This is his Defense assignment?” he asked skeptically.

“Yes,” Severus replied, sitting smoothly down in the blue, star spangled chair in front of Albus’ desk. “He asked me to help him write it because he didn’t understand the mechanics. I find it completely inappropriate to the curriculum of Hogwarts and I demand that the rest of the students be told to disregard it as well.”

“I shall have to speak to Professor Fitzpatrick about his choice in assignments,” Albus muttered, still looking at the parchment as though he expected it to answer all of his questions.

“And what about the students who are currently doing this assignment?” Severus asked.

“I shall instruct the Heads to speak to their sixth years about it,” Albus replied, finally setting Harry’s essay aside. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Severus nodded, rising to head back down to his quarters.

“How are things between you and Harry?” Albus asked behind him.

Severus turned and regarded the Headmaster shrewdly for a long moment before responding. “They are strained,” he said.

“It will get easier,” Albus assured him.

Severus nodded sharply before sweeping out of the office, his robes billowing out behind him.

FIVE

Harry looked up curiously as McGonagall entered the common room, straightening her hat as she straightened up. The common room became very quiet at the sight of their Head of House standing amongst them, many of them wondering why she was there.

“Sixth years, may I have your attention?” McGonagall said tartly, looking very annoyed about something. The common room slowly emptied out until only the sixth years remained, all of them watching McGonagall in trepidation.

“It has been brought to my attention that you have been assigned an inappropriate essay in your Defense Against the Dark Arts class,” McGonagall announced.

Harry stared in surprise. When Snape had said he’d take care of it, somehow this isn’t what Harry had been expecting.

“The headmaster has instructed me to inform you that you are not to do the essay assigned,” McGonagall went on. “You have been given a different essay instead. Explain the effects and side effects of the Imperious Curse and why it is so devastating to its victims. You have until next Friday to complete the new essay. That is all.”

The sixth years were so stunned that they simply stared at the portrait hole for almost a whole minute after McGonagall had gone. Suddenly, the sixth years broke out into discussion about this new development, alerting the other Gryffindors that McGonagall was gone.

“I wonder who told what the essay was about,” Hermione said, sitting near Harry as though she didn’t realize that he was ignoring her. “I thought the topic was a bit dodgy, but I assumed that Dumbledore must have approved of it if Fitzpatrick assigned it to us.”

“You don’t reckon Fitzpatrick is a Death Eater like that fake Moody was, do you?” Ron asked, sitting next to Hermione.

“Don’t be stupid, Ron,” Hermione scolded. “What are the chances of that happening again?”

“Pretty good, if you ask me,” Ron replied. “Think about it, first year we had Quirrel, who had You-Know-Who sticking out of the back of his head; fourth year we had a Death Eater pretending to be Mad-Eye Moody, who just happened to be being held hostage in his own trunk; last year we had that hag Umbridge, who made everyone’s lives absolute hell. Well, everyone but the Slytherins anyway. Why’s it so impossible for Fitzpatrick to be like any of those?”

Hermione fell silent, staring at Ron incredulously. He’d never been able to make his point so well. Harry had to admit that Ron did have a point. More than half of their teachers had been seriously detrimental to their health, and they’d only really had one who hadn’t been detrimental to their education. It was certainly possible.

“You know, Ron, you could be right,” she said after a moment.

Ron beamed at her.

“Of course, he could have just thought that it would be good for us to know all about the Imperious Curse as well.”

Ron’s smile melted. “I suppose,” he muttered.

“Well, it’s too late to start on that essay tonight,” Hermione stated, standing up and stretching her back. “I’m going to bed. Good night, you two.” She disappeared up the stairs to the girls’ dorms, a small, satisfied smile on her face.

“She just likes to be right,” Ron said, watching her go. “She hates it when one of us are right.”

Harry, who was finding it rather difficult to ignore Ron when he was sitting so close, decided it would be best to say something. “She was talking to you. I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, come off it,” Ron snapped. “She was talking to both of us. I think you’re being a complete prat about this whole thing.”

“Do you?” Harry asked, looking up at Ron curiously. He sat back in his armchair, favoring Ron with his coldest look. “What would you have done?”

“I would have heard us out, at the very least.”

“Really? I seem to remember that you wouldn’t talk to me at all in fourth year. Have you grown up then? Are you more mature than I am now? I suppose you can look into my heart and know just what I think about all of this, yes?”

“No, but you could tell me.”

“I imagine that would take all night, and I’m rather tired right now. Besides, I’ve no wish to speak to you. I’ve wasted enough time at it as it is. Good night.” He left the common room, thinking that it only got harder to ignore. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, glad that Snape had gotten what he’d wanted. He started deep breathing exercises and was soon relaxed and falling asleep with a clear head. He didn’t dream.

SIX

Draco’s irritation with Potter was growing by the day. First, he walks away without a word, he marks Draco with his bloody lightning bolt, as though it wasn’t obvious who had done it, and now he’d been avoiding Draco for a week.

After they’d shagged, Draco had naturally assumed that Potter would come looking for him right away. Everyone Draco shagged came around looking for seconds. Potter just had to be the exception. He was always the exception. Bloody Potter, he was going to pay for treating Draco like some common whore. Draco had plans for Potter. That green-eyed wretch would be begging him for mercy by the time he was finished.

Draco’s plan started with the instigation of another meeting one night after one of Potter’s detentions. The problem was when. Potter’s detentions never seemed to end at the same time every night. Some nights he left early, some nights he didn’t seem to leave at all, though Draco supposed he was just leaving very late.

Once he had Potter cornered, he planned to take complete advantage of the Golden Boy’s position. Their last encounter was just a fluke because Draco hadn’t been expecting Potter to react the way he had. No, this time, Draco knew what was coming and he was ready. No talking this time. No, Draco was just going to pounce and ravish that delectable Gryffindor’s body. He hadn’t expected Potter to look so good without his clothes on. It was a shame what robes could hide, though Draco didn’t want anyone else to see what he had the privilege of seeing. He was going to show Potter what was what.

He decided, since it would be a little while before Potter showed up for his detention, that it wouldn’t hurt to have a little chat with Professor Snape. Potter bashing always put Draco in a good mood.

He moved to the Blank Bit of Wall, ready for a good conversation with his favorite teacher. As he moved down the darkened corridor, he realized there was a light on in Professor Snape’s office. ‘He must be grading papers,’ Draco thought. As he lifted his hand to knock however, he heard raised voices on the other side.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, Airy, but you had better stop,” Professor Snape’s voice growled, much the same way Potter had growled at Draco.

“I’m not playin’ games!” a woman, presumably Airy, shouted. “Yer bein’ argumentative, yeh are, and I’m sick of it!”

“You walk in here after sixteen years and expect that I’ll just listen to you?” Snape yelled back. “You took everything from me! What makes you expect me to trust you? YOU TOOK MY SON!”

Draco’s eyes became very round. He hadn’t been aware that Snape had a son. He’d never even of heard of Snape having a woman, much less a son.

“Oh, it’s that old argument again!” Airy groused angrily. “I’ve heard it! I don’t care to hear it again! It’s no excuse!”

“I’m doing the best I can! You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy looking at him and knowing he doesn’t know me? I’m not perfect! I need time just as much as he does!”

Silence descended inside the office. Draco was straining to hear if they’d speak again, when a voice on his right nearly made him cry out in surprise.

“You know, eavesdropping is a very bad habit,” Potter said in a conversational tone, reaching passed Draco and knocking loudly on the office door.

Draco was ready with a retort when the door opened to reveal a somewhat blotchy Professor Snape. “Potter!” he ground out. “You’re late! Get in here!”

Potter brushed passed Draco into the office. “Hey, Arêthüsa,” he said to the woman, who was very pale with long red hair and large brown eyes. She looked very young to be arguing with Snape about children.

“All righ’, Harry?” she replied, glaring angrily at Snape.

“Draco, what are you doing here?” Snape snarled at Draco, who was very interested to find out how this woman knew both Potter and Snape.

“Er, I wanted to speak with you, sir,” Draco replied, turning his gaze to Snape, whose complexion was starting to even out.

“Can’t it wait?” Snape asked, his voice still very impatient. “I’m busy.”

“Oh, yes sir,” Draco replied. “It wasn’t important. I’ll see you in class.”

Snape slammed the door in his face without further comment, which was most unusual. Draco wondered what was going on.

SEVEN

“What’re you doing here?” Harry asked Arêthüsa, who was glaring at Snape as though he’d just killed her best friend.

“Just came to talk to yer da, Harry,” she replied, not taking her eyes off of Snape.

“Talk indeed,” Snape groused, moving to his desk and dropping into the seat. “I’ll have you know, Airy, that Harry and I have been getting along fine, even if it has been a bit slow. You needn’t worry so much, and I’ll thank you to keep your unfounded accusations to yourself.”

Arêthüsa snorted inelegantly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Have yeh bothered to get to know him, eh?” she asked.

Snape glared angrily back.

Harry found this whole argument rather amusing. “Oh, we’ve been doing all right,” Harry replied for his father. “What do you expect? It’s only been a few weeks. We have sixteen years to make up for, after all.”

“The point I have been attempting to make for the last quarter hour,” Snape ground out. “You are entirely too presumptuous for your own good, woman! Just leave us to do things our own way, why don’t you?”

“Because yer men,” Arêthüsa replied as though this should have been obvious. “If I left ya to yer own devices, you’d kill each other. Yeh need a woman’s input.” She flashed a smirk worthy of Snape himself, making Harry smile a bit.

“Why don’t you leave us to it?” Snape asked sullenly, as though he’d just been reprimanded by his mother. “We have things to do, you know.”

“I think I’ll stick around, thanks,” Arêthüsa said. “See how it goes.” She winked at Harry and disappeared through the door that connected Snape’s rooms to his office.

“Insufferable woman,” Snape muttered, standing up to follow her.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, falling into step behind Snape. “She seems all right to me.”

“You’re sixteen,” Snape replied. “You can’t make a proper assessment at that age.”

Harry smiled, suppressing the laugh he felt trying to escape. “Are we working on defense this evening, or should I do my homework?”

“Whatever you like,” Snape said distractedly, sitting behind his desk and glaring at the back of Arêthüsa’s head. She’d seated herself on Snape’s sofa and was busy flipping through one of his potions magazines.

“Don’t mind me,” she said now, turning a page. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

“Oh yes,” Snape grumbled. “You’ll just sit silently, I expect.”

Harry was hard pressed not to burst out laughing. He’d never seen this petulant side of Snape before.

“I think I’ll do my homework,” Harry said, intent on staying out of the way of Snape’s temper.

“Fine,” Snape said, setting to work on his grading.

Harry, chuckling under his breath, sat next to Arêthüsa on the couch and got out his assignments.

“Don’t mind him, Harry,” Arêthüsa said when he was all set up to work. “He’s always been like this.”

“Like what?” Snape growled behind her.

“Whiney,” Arêthüsa replied unabashedly.

Harry turned to his book, trying desperately not to laugh.

“I am not whiney,” Snape groused.

“Yes yeh are, but I like yeh that way,” Arêthüsa said.

“Stop teasing him, Arêthüsa,” Harry said in Snape’s defense, mostly because he thought he might crack a rib soon.

“Call me Airy,” she said, flipping another page. “Everyone does.”

“Okay,” Harry said with a smile. “I really have to do this homework now.”

Airy looked over. “Ooo, Transfiguration,” she said enthusiastically. “What are yeh doin’? Maybe I can—“

“You will allow him to do his assignment on his own, Airy,” Snape interrupted. “He won’t learn if you do it for him.”

“Yes, yes, Severus,” Airy replied with a scowl, turning back to her magazine.

“Must you be here?” Snape asked.

“No.”

“Then why are you?”

“Want to be, don’t I?”

“Why?”

“Well, you’re just so charming, Severus. I can’t help myself.”

Snape growled low in his throat, but didn’t say anything. Harry had a strong suspicion that Airy was staying so that Harry wouldn’t be submitted to the full brunt of Snape’s temper. He was glad for it: very glad.